


Rough Beginnings

by nimuelonefay



Series: The Wild Sorceress [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 17:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimuelonefay/pseuds/nimuelonefay
Summary: Imogen, a half-elf from Baldurs Gate, had been working outside of the city when she had been abducted by a mindflayer nautaloid. Infected, she is fighting for survival and falls in with an unlikely group of adventurers. With all the dangers throwing themselves at their feet, she is working hard to hide her wild magic surges to protect herself and the group.
Relationships: Gale (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wild Sorceress [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2217177
Kudos: 2





	Rough Beginnings

Imogen climbed the creaking wooden steps to the front door of her parents' home. She steadied her breathing, excitement coursing through her veins. Straightening herself, she had scarcely knocked on the door before it flew open.   
“Immie!”, her mother cried and grabbed her daughter in for a tight hug. Imogen laughed and hugged her mother back.   
“With the way you greet me, you’d think I never visit you,” she chuckled as she closed the door. Athena waved her hand in jest and invited Imogen over to the small dining table. Despite all the curtains being opened, the room was still dark. Being in the Lower City with a North facing home did not bless the house with streaming sunlight every day. Still, Imogen thought to herself, it was wonderfully cosy with the copious amount of throw pillows, table covers and knitting projects.   
“Is dad not joining us?” she asked. Athena shook her head as she placed a steaming pot in the centre of the table and mugs in front of them.   
“He’s working overtime at the docks, poor kid fell in the water last week and can hardly draw breath still,” she explained while pouring a fragrant, steaming mug of tea for each of them. Imogen made a sympathetic noise and wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the warmth spread through her fingers. For a while, they carried on with a casual conversation. Eventually, the subject turned to Imogen’s magic.   
“Have you had any more incidents?” her mother asked. Imogen shook her head, tucking a few strands of hair behind her pointed ear.   
“None,” she replied, “but I’ve yet to cast a spell without fear of a surge gripping me.” Athena placed her hand on top of Imogen’s, squeezing it in comfort. Imogen smiled back at her mother. As an elf, she had barely aged a day over the years and would outlive both Imogen and her father. Every time she looked at Imogen, it was always with a sense of drinking in every possible moment.   
“It wasn’t easy, but your father met with a fellow at the Elfsong Tavern who may be able to help you, here in the city,” she began, “but at a price, we simply cannot afford.” Imogen’s head dropped.   
“Of course,” she muttered. “Help is never without a price. Luckily, I’m on my way out of the city to conduct a study that’s worth a considerable amount of gold. It’s a start.” Athena smiled in response. “Our Immie, always with a plan in action.”   
Draining the remainder of her tea, Imogen began to prepare to leave. Athena insisted on packing rations into her bag and was rummaging the cupboards. Imogen started wandering through the house to her childhood room. Opening the door, she was struck at how it was captured perfectly in time. Books packed the walls organised into genres then alphabetically; a large mirror stood at the end of the room with sketches of arcana runes littered around the frame. She drifted over to the mirror and examined her reflection. She certainly had inherited the majority of her mother's looks. Chocolate brown hair tumbled down the sides of her face and had been drawn back into a ponytail, small pointed ears poked through the hair, her features were sharp yet softened with kindness. Her eyes, however, were most certainly her fathers. They were a striking, deep blue.   
“Imogen!” her mother called from the kitchen. She quickly gathered the rune sketches and left the room, taking one last look.   
“I put in three days' worth of dried meats and fruits to tide you over,” Athena said as she closed up the bag. Imogen hugged her mum tightly.   
“Thank you,” she whispered. They held onto the hug for a few moments more before Imogen left the house. Unbeknownst to them, it would be the last time they would see each other for a long time. 

Imogen slowly opened her eyes, her head pouncing. The floor she was lying on was sticky, the wind roared in her ears. Slowly, she began to stand up and clutched her forehead in her hand. “Ugh, my head,” she groaned. The wind blasted her face, making her eyes water. A large hole in the wall showed she was flying at incredible speed across a desolate land with a vast river splitting it in two. Turning around, she saw the pod that she had been held in. If the strange creatures had not attacked the ship, she would surely still be in there. She took a shaky step towards the curious container in the middle of the room; it glowed a sickly orange. Carefully leaning over, she could see that it was where that thing that they had put in her eye had come from. The containers structure seemed frail and ready to collapse; Imogen quickly walked away in fear another tadpole would jump out at her. There were more pods around the room, all of them empty. Some of them were smashed like hers, as more people had been able to escape. At the bottom of one lay the corpse of a dead mindflayer. “Dead, good,” she muttered. A wall to her right suddenly opened, showing a way out. Adrenaline started to pump through her veins. Imogen quickly ran through to find more survivors. Her eyes were assaulted by the blood-red sunlight pouring through the tear at the other end of the room. She threw her arm up to shield her eyes and to protect them from the wind that continued to sting her face. As she walked through, she spotted red masses lying on the floor. On further inspection, she realised they were imps. "Devilkin, am I in the hells?" she muttered to herself. A shiver suddenly ran up her spine. A voice spoke to her, not aloud, but in her head. " _We are here_ ," it whispered. Imogen whipped her head around, trying to decipher where it came from. She spotted a contraption that resembled an elevator and stepped on the platform. Nothing happened. She pressed a button on the odd device that stood next to it; with a jolt, the platform began to move upwards. A gruesome sight met her eyes. An elf lay on a chair seemingly conscious however, his head had been carefully cut open and his brain lay exposed. Imogen carefully approached the elf who twitched as she inspected the scene. " _Yes, you've come to save us from this place!_ " Imogen recoiled in disgust. The brain was _talking_ to her. " _From this place, you'll free us!_ " It seemed to quiver with excitement as she inspected it more closely. Something in her wanted to protect it, to bring it to the helm to safety. An inner strength quashed this sensation, and she was able to regain complete control of her will. Her brief studies of the illithid had shown the stages of an infected brain turning into an intellect devourer; there was no time to waste. Sliding her hands between the smooth bone of the skull and the warm, soft outside of the brain, she gripped tight and began to pull. The elf thrashed as she pulled, the brain tore from his spinal cord; he fell still. Imogen wiped her hands on her robes and immediately emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor. She wiped her mouth and screamed out loud. What in the Hells had happened today? Tears rolled down her cheeks as she approached the elevator again and pressed for it to descend. 

The screech of a dragon rang in her ears as she stepped outside the ship. Imps flew after it, mere specks in comparison to the mighty beast. The ship continued to fly at tremendous speed, Imogen gripped the wall. Her mouth fell open as she saw the enormous river stretch to the horizon; the smell of sulphur filled her nose. If they were in the Hells, then this must be the Styx! Slowly sliding along the ship, she spotted another opening to get her back inside. Something green rushed down in front of Imogen, startling her.

" _Abomination_ ", they spat, "this is your end!" Something strange happened after the stranger spoke. Imogen's vision was flooded with scenes of dragons and herself lying in the pod. When the vision faded, the stranger stood in front of her, clutching their head.

"Argh, what is this? Nghh!" she moaned. Imogen stood staring, lost for words. The stranger, who Imogen could see was a githyanki, composed themselves and smiled.

"You are no thrall! Vlaakith blesses me this day! Imps block the path forward, you will assist me in destroying them. Then, we go to the helm," they ordered. Finding her voice, Imogen cleared her throat. 

"Who are you, exactly?" she asked. The githyanki seemed impatient and hardly resisted rolling their eyes.

"My name is Lae'zel, I am your only option for getting out of here. As are you mine, though it pains me to say it," she finished with distaste. 

"Well, Lae'zel, you can call me Imogen. Let us proceed," Imogen answered and gestured ahead. They walked forward in silence, the imps that Lae'zel had mentioned patrolled the small room. There was nowhere for them to hide, leaving only one option. Imogen raised her hands, yelling an incantation and sent magical missiles into the furthest away imp. With a screech, it fell to the floor, dead. Lae'zel charged forward, cutting the closest one down. The last imp recovered from the surprise of the attack and tried to fire a crossbow bolt at Imogen. She swiftly dodged it, casting a shard of ice and hitting its face. Enraged, the imp screeched at her and readied another crossbow bolt. Before it could finish, Lae'zel had snuck up behind it and plunged her longsword through its chest. The crossbow fell to the ground.

"You prove surprisingly adequate in battle," Lae'zel commented as she pulled her sword out of the imp. "Now, to the helm!" Imogen did not need to be told twice. They ran up the stairs to an opening at the front of the ship. The shadow of a dragon passed overhead, easily avoiding the cannon fire and disappeared underneath. Imogen looked around to Lae'zel, who looked onward with a hint of pride on her face. The dragon began to rise at the front of the ship again, it's shadow looming across the deck. With a mighty crash, it tore off the front of the deck. The cannons and those tending to them plummed to their death. The dragon's impact shook the ship violently, Imogen lost her balance and fell. She regained her composure and followed Lae'zel, who had run ahead. With the thralls and intellect devourers distracted by the chaos of protecting the ship, they managed to sneak across the deck back inside. Silence pressed in on Imogen's ears. 

Even in the darkness of the room, Imogen's elven blood allowed her to see everything. Two bodies lay in chairs; even with Lae'zel spitting warnings next to in her ear, she did not plan to touch anything. The sound of banging on glass cut through the air; Imogen saw movement within a pod. She ran over to it, finding a woman trapped and desperately hitting the glass.  
"You! Get me out of this thing!" she yelled, continuing to bang on the glass.  
"We have no time for stragglers," Lae'zel insisted. Imogen ignored her and studied the pod. She could sense warding runes that would require powerful magic or a key to dispel it. Holding her hands up, she began to mutter counterspells that could help. Instead of unlocking the pod, a loud zap cracked through the air; Imogen felt electricity surge through her body. Shaking her hands, she looked up apologetically at the woman.  
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to find another way to get you out!" she yelled apologetically. The woman looked down, panicked. With no plan in mind, Imogen began to walk towards one of the two doors. As they stepped through, the sound of a battle could be heard in the next room. Lae'zel tugged her arm, wishing to speak to Imogen.  
"We are nearing the helm," she began. "Once inside, do as I say." Imogen nodded. The githyanki stood tall in her plated armour and the spirit of a soldier. Together, they stepped forward into the room. Two mindflayers, two cambions and a small cluster of imps were fighting each other. One of the mindflayers grasped a cambon from behind, wrapping its tentacles around his face. With a horrible clicking and squelching noise, the cambion fell to the ground dead. The cluster of imps closed in on the mindflayer, slashing at it until it fell to the ground in a silvery puddle. The remaining mindflayer stunned the remaining cambion with a psionic blast, turning to Imogen and Lae'zel.  
"Thrall," it commanded while pointing at Imogen, "connect the nerves of the transponder. We must escape. _Now!_ " A sickening feeling rose in Imogen's throat as she stared at the mind flayer. Lae'zel grabbed her arm again.  
"Do it! We will deal with the ghaik after!" 

The fight was far from easy. Imps sent fireballs and crossbow bolts at them. If they managed to get close enough, they swiped at the two of them with their swords. Behind them, the mindflayer and the cambion focused only on each other. Occasionally, the cambion would yell out to no one in particular. Imogen was the first to reach the transponder. Alien-like tendrils waved up at her; two were disconnected. She grasped them and guided the heads to each other. Sensing the other tendril, they wrapped themselves around each other, completing the connection. A loud thud sounded above her. Imogen looked up, her eyes followed the large shape to the hole next to her. Fear paralysed her. A dragons head filled the smashed window, a deep growl rumbled within. Before she could move, the dragon opened its mouth, and fire engulfed the transponder. Imogen dove to the side, barely avoiding burning to death. A pule began to emanate from the transponder, and the tendrils were vibrating. Imogen felt as though the air was squeezed out of her lungs as the ship lurched forward. The dragon and the Hells disappeared from around them. As the nautiloid began to pick up speed, Imogen was thrown to the back of the room. She painfully crashed into the wall, surrounded by debris. The nautiloid lurched forward again, sending Imogen falling through the air; and grasped the side of the transponder. She looked around desperately for Lae'zel. The githyanki was nowhere to be seen. She tried to reach up to the tendrils with her remaining hand; the muscles in her arm screamed as they held onto the transponder. With a yell, Imogen was able to lift her arm all the way up and grasp a tendril, thinking only of Faerun.  
A tired, dark blue sky greeted Imogen's eyes as the nautiloid burst through into the Material Plane. She tried to stand up but could hardly keep balance. Eventually, she fell and rolled to the side next to a large hole in the wall. The wind rushed through, smoke billowed out, and a mindflayer sat with a defeated look across from her. Imogen would never have seen the piece of debris detach from the other side of the helm. It flew through the air towards the hole, smacking into the side of Imogen's head with enough force to both knock her unconscious and throw her through the hole. Imogen continued to fall, surrounded by pieces of the nautiloid that followed behind her. As she reached the ground, unknown magic halted her from her gruesome death. Imogen floated inches above the ground until she regained consciousness. She gasped, and the magic dispelled, letting her topple onto the sand in safety.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for joining Imogen on her adventure through Faerun! I hope you enjoyed your read and will hang around for more chapters :)


End file.
